


Pictures of Lily

by orphan_account



Category: The Beatles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 06:29:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4735943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For some reason or other, the boys are looking after a little girl called Lily and they're trying to put her to bed. There is really no point to this - I was just bored one day and decided to write :) enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pictures of Lily

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I would say I own the Beatles, but that would be lying and lying is a sin.

'Read, Georgie, read, read!'

The youngest Beatle smiled into his fatigue and rested his head against the back of the sofa, wrapping his arms around the newly pyjama-d and completely alert toddler which was nestling into his chest and keeping him from sleep. His smile widened as the comfortingly familiar form of Paul McCartney plopped in the space next to him, running a hand through his hair and turning to look at him.

''M shattered,' was the mutter that emitted from his bandmate's mouth as the child he held clambered from his arms onto Paul's stomach and said bandmate wrapped his own limbs around her, almost absentmindedly, George thought. God, Paul was good with kids. Unlike him. He'd do anything for her to go away so he could rest.

Sadly though, that wasn't going to happen.

'Story, Paulie, story! Story, story, story, story, story, Paulie, please, Paulie, story, please, Paulie, story, please!' She bounced up and down on the (poor) boy's lap as he looked up and grinned through lidded eyelids at her. George marvelled inwardly at his patience.

'Story? Aren't you meant to be asleep, little birdie?'

The girl giggled, as her nose wrinkled. 'Birdie, Paulie?' The man nodded, smiling. 'My name's not birdie, Paulie, 's Lily. Birdie's a silly name, isn't it, George? Birdie? Isn't it a silly name?'

George blinked as Paul laughed. 'I know your name, Lilyyyyyy. It's just you're wearing birdies. Little birdies.'

Lily giggled again. Nestled her head into Paul's shoulder. 'Kay. Little birdie. Paul?' She added, making the subject look down at her. 'Little birdie wants a story please?'

Paul nodded, smiling. He rolled his eyes at the toddler, making her laugh. 'You're a good persuader, you. What story d'you want then? The one with the crocodile? And that pelican? With the stupid …' He trailed off, turning to grin at George, who shushed him with a finger to his lips and frowned through a massive grin. Lily didn't seem to notice.

'No, not the pelican. That's boring. And John says it's for babies.'

Paul looked scandalised. 'It's not for babies. Did he really –'

'It is Paul. Anyway, you don't like the pelican, so it doesn't matter, does it?'

Paul blinked. '…I do like the pelican.'

Lily shook her head. 'Well I don't.' 

'Well which one then?' Paul asked, his hands now sifting through her hair as he rolled his eyes at George, making him grin.

Lily looked up. 'Tell me a new one. One I've not heard before. Please.'

Paul smiled. 'We don't have any new ones little birdie. Do we George?'

George shook his head. 'No Paul.' He yawned. 'And we can't be bothered to make one up,' he added, only loud enough for the bassist to hear him, meriting a laugh and a whack in the arm from his bandmate.

'What about from when you were younger, Paulie? When you meeted George, Paul. Please?'

'D'you mean met?'

A nod.

'Well, I think we can do that, can't we George?'

Lily beamed as George groaned, and Paul grinned. 'Well, I first met George on a bus to school, and he said to me, 'd'you mind, cos I need that seat more than that ugly great bag which is on there now' and sat down next to me.'

The toddler giggled and gazed up at George. 'How rude,' she reprimanded, earning a smile from George and a chuckle from Paul.

'Yes, quite. What a rude little boy, you were George.' The bassist grinned. 'He had massive great elephant ears, like this,' and he put his hands to the side of his head and wiggled them around, in an apparent imitation of an elephant, making the little girl squeal with glee, and the guitarist go red. 'And his hair was all curly and stick-uppy, like this.' With this declaration, he pushed Lily's hair up at the fringe, making her wriggle away from his hand, and giggle in delight.

'Well,' huffed George, a huge smile on his lips. 'That's nothing compared to Paul.' He narrowed his eyes at the smirking bassist and pushed his hair back. 'Paul had massive eyelashes, like a girl, and a really high voice like this,' and he affected a squeaky American accent, which merited another giggle from the 5 year old and made Paul laugh. 'He walked like that model, Dot, we were looking at on tv the other day, all swishy and pretentious, and-'

'What's pretentious?' interjected Lily.

George wrinkled his eyebrows together for a second, thinking, before replying. 'Stupid.'

Paul huffed, then grinned. 'I was really cool when I got older. We both were, weren't we George? Though you were a bit of a klutz.'

George snorted. 'At least I wasn't a massively egotistical git, like you. Strutting around in your drainpipe jeans and your leather jacket with your hair and your eyes and your smile, getting all the birds and singing all the songs, and everything.' He shook his head, with a grin. 'What a twit.'

'Why did Paulie like birds?' interjected the girl on said bassists lap.

George bit his lip, looking up at his fellow bandmate, and smiled. 'He … thought they were very pretty. Didn't you Paul?'

'I did indeed,' chuckled Paul. 'Very, very pretty. Not as pretty as our little birdie though, huh?'

Lily giggled as John entered the room. 'What are you talking about?'

'When we meeted.'

He grinned. 'Met. Saddo's. Nostalgia hit you hard didn't it?'

'Lily wanted it,' George protested, smiling up at John after he'd spoken, and gesturing to the girl on Paul's lap.

'What about the –'

'Actually, I need to speak to you, Lennon,' interrupted Paul, looking to face the rhythm guitarist with a twinkle in his eyes. 'What's all this about the pelican being for babies, huh?'

John looked affronted. 'I never said that!'

'You did! You … you did!' Lily had jumped up from her seat in Paul's lap and was now pointing at a very red faced John Lennon. 'He … Paul, he did.'

Paul eyed John and George grinned at the fake-serious expression on the bassist's face. 'Well it seems-'

'ALRIGHT I DID!' And John fell knees first on the floor, Hollywood movie style, seemingly worshipping the three on the sofa as he wafted his hands up and down, like he was begging or asking for mercy, and Lily smiled smugly as Paul ruffled her hair.

'You could be one of the police, little birdie,' he grinned, as George smiled and Lily giggled. 'Interrogation room, I think.'

'Don't cane me sir,' John pleaded, wringing his hands together, and edging forwards on his knees towards Paul's legs, like he was a prisoner in manacles. 'I wasn't thinking straight, please, sir, please.'

Paul sighed, shaking his heads. 'Not me you should be apologising to, really.' He pointed to the toddler, who now stood (rather intimidatingly, George had to admit) on said bassists knee, clad only in pyjamas adorned with minute birds and a complacent expression.

John edged even closer, pouting now, as George and Paul grinned. 'I'm so sorry, to Lily, Paul, and all pelicans who were offended by my ever-so-horrible comment about something being –'

He was cut off however by the door of the living room opening and Ringo Starr walking in. All heads turned towards him. Ringo blinked, taking in the surroundings, then backed out the way he came. George bit his lip in a smile as Lily yawned.

'Right!' This was Paul. 'Bed for you, or your mummy will be angry with us in the morning. C'mon.' And he picked the 5 year old up in his arms, carrying her away. George yawned too, leaning back against the headboard of the sofa, shutting his eyes, letting the quiet wash over him and gradually, gradually drifting back to sleep.


End file.
